


He's a cleric of Hope, damnit!

by KD writes (KDHeart)



Series: Promptober 2020 [22]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Left for Dead, Pre-Relationship, Whumptober 2020, set sometime in those 18 months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDHeart/pseuds/KD%20writes
Summary: Zolf couldn’t…He needed Wilde to be okay.A bit of Whumptober day 30 (wound reveal) and a bit of Whumptober day 31 (left for dead)
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Series: Promptober 2020 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951537
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22
Collections: A Wilde Ride October Collection





	He's a cleric of Hope, damnit!

**Author's Note:**

> And this concludes our October prompt challenge. I made it 22 works and 24 prompts out of 31, which is pretty good, considering. 
> 
> More Zoscar, because RQG hurts. Set sometime in those 18 months. The eternal mystery or Oscar and his scar.

There was a lot of blood. His clothes were stained and splattered in ways that made it clear it wasn’t someone else’s. His hair was matted with it. His eyes were glued shut. His face was smeared red with streaks of dirt across his forehead.

His lips were pale, the same sickly hue as the rest of his skin, coated in blood and grime.

He lay motionless on the ground.

His chest barely moved with shallow breath, though. So maybe… maybe Zolf wasn’t too late.

There was still hope.

He knelt at Wilde’s side to try and stabilize him. This close, it looked even worse. Zolf had to lean in close to make sure he hadn’t bean wrong about his breathing. He checked for a pulse, too, pressing his fingers to the side of his throat.

Wilde’s heartbeat was faint and his skin was cold from blood loss and from being left on the cold ground for so long.

The bastards had left him for dead, but he was clearly too much of a stubborn ass to give them that satisfaction. Zolf had to make sure he stayed alive long enough to pay them back.

So far, his efforts proved useless.

No matter how much magic he channeled into Wilde, he wasn’t healing. He wasn’t even stabilizing.

His breaths were growing ever fainter.

A thought struck him and Zolf checked Wilde’s feet.

Sure enough, those damned anti-magic cuffs were still there.

This was not the time to get annoyed at the bard’s poor sense of self preservation – not only did they prevent Zolf from healing him, but it also meant Wilde had gone into this situation defenseless. He’d scoffed at taking anything more sensible than a dagger with him on this mission!

Zolf couldn’t…

He needed Wilde to be okay.

He couldn’t lose him like this.

But, more importantly, he needed the smug asshole back on his feet so he could slap some sense back into him.

He was going to have to do this the hard way, if magic wasn’t on the table. And he had to work quickly.

Zolf cleaned him up enough for the cuts not to get infected and stopped the bleeding with cloth and pressure. In the process, he found a bruised (maybe cracked?) rib.

Wilde’s wince filled Zolf with an unreasonable wave of hope.


End file.
